A Vague Plan
by Ms. Storyteller
Summary: R/H-Set in their seventh year at Hogwarts, Confident!Ron finally decides to take the initiative and convince Cautious!Hermione that them dating each other would not ruin their friendship with Harry. Well-intentioned fluff contained herein.
1. ProloguePart one

Disclaimer: These characters are incredibly not mine, and I don't claim them to be.  They belong to a mind far more creative than my own.  I'm just playing with them a bit.  I promise to put them back when I'm done. 

A/N: Ron is a bit OOC here, and that is for a reason.  I truly think that as he gets older, he'll become more confident and self-possessed than most writers portray him.  This story takes place in their seventh year, so he and Ginny are the only Weasleys left at Hogwarts.  Without the shadow of his brothers looming over him, I believe Ron could come into his own.  So yeah.  This is Confident!Ron and Cautious!Hermione.  It is also my first attempt at Harry Potter fic, though I probably shouldn't have said that since it immediately turns people off.  Anyway, hope you like it.  

Prologue: Wherein the characters and basic plot are introduced to the reader 

"Really, Ron," Hermione exclaimed, her voice taking on that obviously exasperated tone it frequently did when she reprimanded her friend,  "If you spent half the time on your homework that you did on playing chess, you would be at the _bloody_ top of the class!"

Ron was hunched over the chess game he and Harry were currently involved in, his eyes narrowed in concentration.  Up until that point he hadn't even bothered to look at Hermione, knowing if he did she would only take it as encouragement to further berate him about his poor work ethic.  At her last words, however, his bright blue eyes shot up to meet Harry's warm green ones.  He caught the amusement in them immediately, and knew it matched his own expression.

Dropping his gaze back to the board, he playfully clucked his tongue in disapproval.  

"Such language, Hermione, and from you, Head Girl no less."

He had to lower his head under the guise of more thoroughly studying the board to cover up his grin when his words had the desired reaction.  Hermione jumped up from the couch she had been sitting on, her hands on her hips.

"_Honestly_, Ron!"

Ron looked up at Harry again, not even bothering to hide his face, full of laughter and affection for the curly-haired spitfire glaring at him.

"Is she still talking to me?"

Harry quirked an eyebrow and Ron saw his mouth twitch up slightly.  Instead of answering him though, Harry merely shook his head to show he had no desire to get in the middle of one of Ron and Hermione's arguments.  They had been happening almost bi-weekly since fifth year, and now near Halloween in their seventh, Harry had found he was much easier kept in Hermione's good graces when he stayed clear of it.  _A reasonable choice_, Ron had to admit.  Everyone knew the youngest of the Weasley men was the only person in the whole of Hogwarts who could come away from the wrath of Hermione unscathed.

"Harry!" Ron sniggered when he saw the look of mild horror that crossed his friend's face at having been brought into the fray.  "Would you kindly remind Ron that he has a two foot essay due for Defense Against the Dark Arts tomorrow that I know very well he hasn't started on yet?  And while you're at it, tell him that if he thinks he can come knocking on my door at midnight tonight expecting to see mine, then he is sorely mistaken."

With a long-suffering sigh, Harry opened his mouth to repeat the rather lengthy message, but Ron held up a hand to stop him before he had time to utter the first word.  Turning himself so he was facing Hermione, he slowly shifted his gaze past her meticulously pressed robes and smooth white neck to meet her eyes.  He then reached out and took her left hand with his right.

"I will get started on my paper as soon as I finish this game, I promise you, 'Mione.  It will get done, ok?" He voice was low and soothing, as he had intended it to be, a trick he picked up from George, who was remarkably good at getting people to do things for him.  His thumb absently stroked the back of her hand.

Hermione pulled out of his grasp in a quick, jerky motion, and her cheeks tinged a rather enduring shade of pink.  She seemed to notice how odd her reaction was, and made a show of calmly smoothing out her crisp robes.

"Well.  Right, then.  I'll be up in my room doing the Potions homework if you need me," she responded before turning and walking up the stairs to the girls' dorms.

Ron's eyes followed her retreating form until she disappeared through the large, heavy door that separated the girls' rooms from the common room.  He shifted his focus back to the chessboard.

In front of him, Harry instructed his knight to take Ron's pawn, which it did with a loud and satisfying smash of its sword.  

"That wasn't playing fair, what you did to her," Harry chastised gently.

Ron rolled his eyes as his queen slashed Harry's knight in half.

"I gave up playing fair with Hermione a long time ago.  All she has to do is look at me with those bloody magnificent brown eyes and I'd do anything for her.  You know as soon as this is over I'm going to write my essay, because I said I would.  How is that fair?"

"That's a good point, I suppose," Harry acquiesced, "Why don't you ask her out then?  I mean I know what you think will happen, but what if she surprises you and agrees?  Don't tell me you won't be the happier for it."  

Harry muttered a command to his bishop, and it slid across the board.

"Harry, you know Hermione.  She'll ignore anything going on, as she has been for the last two-and-a-half years, in order to preserve the peace amongst the three of us.  She thinks you'll be put out if we get together," Ron explained slowly, then moved his rook to capture his opponent's bishop.

When his piece shattered, Harry shot him a look of annoyance, and pushed his round glasses further up the bridge of his nose, a motion he always made when he was contemplating a move against Ron.

"Well, what if you told her I don't mind?  Gave you two my blessing…as it were?" Harry suggested.

"It doesn't matter what _you _say, it matters what _she _thinks.  You could deny having any misgivings until your face turns blue, you could plan our bloody wedding, and it won't do a thing if she's got it in her head that you'll be upset.  She'll say you're being noble for our sakes."

"Maybe you can…make her do it."  The moment he said it, Harry knew how ridiculous that sounded.  Nothing short of the Imperius Curse could force Hermione Granger to do something she didn't want to do.

"Not _make _her do it, _convince _her to," Ron corrected with, Harry thought, a fairly sly grin.

"And what's the phenomenal difference between that and what I said?" Harry asked.

Ron glanced at him with a look that clearly said the answer was obvious.  "Have you ever in your life been able to make Hermione do something?  Don't even answer that, it was rhetorical; we both know your response.  But convincing Hermione of something?  It takes quite a bit of work, I'll give you that, but she has never been one to disregard a logical argument.  Quite the opposite, really."

At this, he paused for both the dramatic effect and to move his knight. 

"And while you've been wasting all your time lately ogling my _only _sister," his eyebrow raised when Harry blushed a deep sort of scarlet that was all too perfect for the model Gryffindor, "I've been using mine in a more productive manner.  I've come up with a plan."

Harry was intrigued for many reasons, not the least of which was the fact that after almost three years of pining-- quite annoyingly, he had to admit, though he wasn't nearly as fed up with it as Seamus and Dean-- for Hermione, Ron finally seemed prepared to act.

"Really?  And what does this plan entail, exactly?"

Ron frowned slightly, "I don't have all the particulars down yet, but I know that the main objective is helping her understand that a…romantic relationship between the two of us won't bring about the destruction of our friendship with you.  Not as easy as it sounds, I'm afraid."

"Anything I can do to help?"

Ron snorted.  "Oh, loads.  This is not a one man job."

Harry smirked and moved to take his turn in their game.

"Don't bother," Ron said.  When Harry shot him a confused look, he pointed at the board where his remaining pieces were celebrating, his knight waving his sword victoriously, his queen taking a deep bow and his other survivors dancing around in their allotted squares.  "Checkmate."

Part One: Wherein the reader gets debriefed on the current state of our characters

(Or: Where Ms. Rowling left off to where we are now)

The worst kept secret in Gryffindor House was the long-standing crush Ron Weasley had on Hermione Granger.  Since fifth year the whole school had been buzzing about it.  The Hufflepuff girls sighed whenever the two walked shoulder to shoulder in the hallways. "Aren't they so sweet?" They would whisper breathlessly to one another, "Look at how he guided her around that slick patch on the ground.  For someone so smart, she really is blind, isn't she?  Ron, so kind and handsome."

All of which was true, of course.  Hufflepuffs, in general, were nothing if not keenly perceptive, and terribly romantic.

Ron had never grown out of his compulsion to protect Hermione in any way he could.  Indeed, it had grown even stronger with time.  It was part chivalry, part big brother instinct and part blinding fury at the thought of anything ever upsetting her.  Aside from him, but that's another issue entirely.

Ron had a temper with a fuse about as thin as a sheet of parchment when it came to her.  A well-aimed scowl and nasty retort were instantly shot at anyone who had the gall to insult Hermione's unruly brown hair or Muggle upbringing in Ron's presence.  Oftentimes, it took a calm hand on the shoulder from either Hermione or Harry to stop him from brandishing his wand at the offender.  

None of this was to say that Hermione needed a guardian of any sort.  Easily the quickest and most eager student in her class, Hermione's wand skills were eclipsed only by Harry's.  Her ease with Arithmancy was unparalleled by anyone, and even Snape was properly impressed with the work she'd done in Potions.  To say nothing of the fact that, if it came down to it, she could pack quite a punch.

Ron knew all this, obviously, but he had the remarkable ability to forget it when faced with a situation where she might be harmed.

                                                                        *

The Ravenclaws observed Ron from a purely objective point of view.  

"Looks a bit like his brother Charlie, doesn't he?" One would ask when Ron would nudge Hermione with his elbow in Transfiguration, for the sole purpose of sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes at her.

"Yes.  Not anything like those twins, thank Rowena.  Two of them are all the world needs," the other would respond.

That, too, was true enough.  If a comparison had to be made between Ron and one of his five brothers, any person would pick Charlie.  After years of getting comfortable in his own body, Ron had grown into a good-looking eighteen-year-old man.  He was tall and lean, his muscles strong and sinewy from playing so much Quidditch.  

At the start of his fifth year, after Oliver Wood had graduated, Ron tried out for and earned the position of Keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and since that day, his life had almost entirely revolved around attending practices, devising plays and the actual games themselves.  It was really a wonder that he had time for his studies, but Hermione saw to it that he never missed an assignment.  Even if that meant she had to drag him to the library and sit with him until he was finished, a situation he didn't mind at all.

His hair was still a stark red color that left no doubt to where he was in a room, but it had grown longer and curled softly at the nape of his neck and around his ears.  It also had the added benefit of framing his eyes perfectly when he ducked his head, which made him look absolutely innocent of any wrongdoings he may have committed.  

The way he carried himself, however, was where the comparison to Charlie became relevant.  Ron had grown a great deal more confident with himself as he passed through his teenaged years.  When he walked, he held his shoulders straight and his head high, his long legs carrying him purposefully from one place to another.  His arms, however, were ever moving, always gesturing animatedly to a friend, running through his hair or fiddling with his wand.  

His eyes, a deep blue, remained striking and intense no matter how many times one looked at them.  In him, a person could easily see the strong and adept dragon trainer, Charlie Weasley.  

                                                                        *

The Slytherins would blanch openly at them during Potions, when Hermione would roll her eyes and reprimand Ron for not paying attention.  

"Bloody nauseating, those two are," one would sneer, "Why doesn't he shag her and be done with it?"

Those shrewd students had a point.  Ron and Hermione could be very sickening to watch for long periods of time, if one wasn't interested in that type of thing.

                                                                        *

Their fellow Gryffindors would shake their heads while eating lunch in the Great Hall and watching Hermione and Ron argue tempestuously over the most mundane of topics.  

"Ron's more likely to drive her mad than to ask her out with the way he's going on," one would complain to the other.

That was a particularly loathsome problem for the seventh year boys who had to share a room with Ron, and were therefore required to listen to his seemingly unending monologues about Hermione each night before bed.

On more than one occasion, a sharp Irish voice was known to shout, "I swear to you Ron, if you say one more word about Hermione, so help me Godric, I will put a Muting Curse on you in order to preserve our sanity!"

                                                                        *

This supposed secret was so widespread that it seemed the only person who didn't know about it was Hermione herself.

                                                                        *

And if the worst kept secret in Gryffindor was Ron's feelings for Hermione, then the best kept was Hermione's feelings for Ron.

There were many people who guessed or assumed that Hermione returned Ron's affections, but there were only two people who knew it to be fact.  Harry and Ron had been best friends with Hermione for six years, and because of that, they had a finely tuned sense of what she was thinking or feeling at any given moment.

Ron, especially, took his time to learn how to decipher the meaning of everything she did.  He wanted to know as much as he could about her, what things made her deliriously happy, inconsolably upset and all that was in between.  He knew which words made her blush and which made her stomp her foot on the floor in anger.

He knew she had never been happier than the day she got the owl telling her she was Head Girl to Draco Malfoy's Head Boy, because it marked a culmination of six long, hard years of work on her part.  And more than that, it proved that she, a Muggle-born, was just as good as any Malfoy, Brown or Weasley that attended Hogwarts.  

Anyone who watched her suck on the tip of her sugar quill in concentration while she did her Care of Magical Creatures homework already knew that, but Hermione had a stubborn streak a mile wide, and until she was named a prefect and finally Head Girl, she wouldn't fully let herself believe that she was one of the most talented and dedicated witches Hogwarts had ever seen.

It was because of the intimate knowledge that Hermione allowed only them access to, which Harry and Ron were able to see what she felt, while everyone else was in doubt.

Harry knew that she loved him a great deal, she had showed it countless times over the last six years.  But one only needed to watch the way she acted around him in comparison to Ron to notice that her love for the red headed boy was much different than what she felt for Harry.

It was evident in the way she nagged Ron incessantly about his homework, the passion in her voice when she argued with him, and concurrently, the ease with which he could make her smile.  And during their Quidditch matches, he was the only player on the pitch she paid any attention to whatsoever. 

                                                                        *

It should also be noted that Ron and Hermione had not spent the past two and some odd years only brooding and pining for one another.  In fact, they each had their share of interesting ex-partners.

Ron, for instance, in the middle of sixth year, had a brief romance with Lavender Brown.  It ended amicably after three weeks and with her soft uttering of, "Oh Ron, why did we even bother?"

He'd also had many pleasant first dates with several of the girls at Hogwarts, mostly sticking with the intelligent and responsible Ravenclaws.  Nothing ever came of it, but they were nice girls, and knew not to get very attached to him, as the Hufflepuffs tended to do, or try to hex him after he broke it off, like the vindictive Slytherins.  And after Lavender, dating girls from his own House was just far too complicated for his taste, as it inevitably involved Hermione much more actively than he liked.  So the Ravenclaws were the best choice for him.  They were good for a fun night, and since his fourth year, Ron had never been wont for a date to any formal Hogwarts gathering.

To Ron's chagrin, Hermione had slightly more luck when it came to maintaining relationships.  Even in their seventh year, she continued her correspondence with Viktor (bloody) Krum, and took one week out of every summer to visit him in Bulgaria, though she insisted to Ron and Harry that the two of them were just good friends.

Toward the end of sixth year, she began a three-month relationship with the charming Hufflepuff prefect, Justin Finch-Fletchley.  They each enjoyed the other's company, and were happy to have someone to spend weekends in Hogsmeade with, but to say their relationship was passionate would have been a step too far.  They both decided that what they had wouldn't last an entire summer away from each other, and ended it the previous June. 

                                                                        *

So, because neither of them was currently attached to anyone else, Ron reasoned that then would be the best time to set his (admittedly) vague plan into action.


	2. Part two

Disclaimer: Incredibly not mine.  I don't claim them at all.  They're safer in Ms. Rowling's hands anyway.

A/N: So this is only one part when I meant to post two by tonight.  However, I wanted to get something updated, and I won't be able to do it over the weekend, because I have three midterms to study for.  So I figured this one part was better than waiting a week when I will finish the next bit.  Ahh…college is fun.  

But about the story.  This kind of gives the reader a little more insight into the new Ron and his role in Hermione's life and vise versa.  The epitome of fluff here.  A lot of sighing and blushing.  Just a bit of candy before the actual plot really gets rolling (although, from what I can tell of the plot so far, it won't be terribly different).  We're getting to Hermione's point of view a few parts down the road, so she can finally speak for herself, instead of having Ron do it for her.  You know that's got to piss her off.

OOC Ron, even more so than last chapter, I think, but I like him, he's growing on me.  He's confident with himself, but isn't conceited.  And he's crazy for our Hermione, which helps his case a bit, I think.

Reviews would be nice.  Some assurance that I'm not taking HP canon and shredding it to bits would calm my nerves a bit.  Let me know if you still like Confident!Ron.    

Part Two: Wherein the characters' motives and back-stories have been properly established, and the plot can finally begin

(Or: A morsel of sweetness before the plan begins full force)

"So…" Harry said, his practice Quidditch robes billowing out behind him as he walked swiftly into the changing rooms.

"What?" Ron asked, rather irritably.  He had allowed his sister and newly named Chaser, Ginny, to score on him five times during practice, and so didn't feel particularly like making small talk.

"So it's been a week, when were you planning on implementing this cunning plan of yours?"

Ron unclasped his tattered wrist guards and shoved them into his bag.  He then flexed his hands a few times and massaged his sore knuckles.  

"Implementing it?  The first stage is already in process," he answered as he unbuttoned his heavy robe and pulled it off in a rush.  Though it was mid-October and very late at night, the weather was unbearably hot, and his robe clung uncomfortably to his body.  He removed it to reveal a dark orange Chudley Cannons t-shirt he'd received from his brother, Bill, for his fifteenth birthday.  It was a wizard's shirt, and the decoration on it was a constant replay of the moment in 1892 when the Cannons' Seeker, Patrick Picadilly, leapt off his broom to catch the Snitch and win the Cannons' their 21st and final League Championship.  

The problem was, that while the t-shirt was too big when it was first given to him, over the years as Ron grew, it seemed to become smaller and more threadbare.  Now, the fabric was pulled taut across his chest and shoulders and there was a rip where it hugged his waist, a memento from a wrestling match with Fred the year before.  But it was his favorite, and he refused to throw it away.  Every time he put it on, the model Patrick Picadilly gave him an annoyed glare, because the farther the shirt was stretched, the farther he had to jump from his broom in order to keep catching the Snitch.

"I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary," Harry countered while unlacing one boot, "In fact, it seems to me, lately, that you've been around Hermione even _less_ than usual."

Ron, who was fiddling with his left shin guard, paused a moment to glance up at Harry.  His blue eyes were shining and his mouth was twisted into a devious smile.  

"Exactly.  You're perfectly right, Harry."

"You're telling me that the first part of this plan of yours is to NOT talk to her?  Good thinking.  Smashing, really, wish I'd thought of it.  You know, it's a wonder she hasn't fallen head over heels for Malfoy by now, what with the spectacular job he's done of avoiding any more contact with her than is necessary over these last six years."  The sarcasm was glaringly obvious as it dripped off of Harry's tongue.

"What time is it?" Ron asked, changing the subject briefly.

"Must be at least half past eleven," Harry answered.

Ron groaned and ran a hand through his wet and disheveled red hair.  "Thanks, Captain.  Another all night practice."

"Hey!  Is it my fault the Slytherins refuse to give up the pitch on time, causing our practices to run grossly over schedule?"

"Suppose not," Ron conceded, "Ah well.  At least there won't be anyone in the halls, so I don't have to worry about wearing my robe.  It's bloody hot!"

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed at the perspiration that was stinging his eyes.

"I've noticed, thanks.  Now you've moved off topic."

"What were we talking about again?" 

"You avoiding Hermione," Harry supplied.

"First of all, I'm not avoiding her," Ron explained, "Both because I don't think I could do it for very long, and because that would be quite obvious.  What I _am_ doing, however, is simply refraining from giving her all the extra attention I usually do.  You know, walking her to the Astronomy Tower for class, bothering her during Transfiguration, stealing her rolls at dinner, that sort of thing."

"And how is this a useful strategy?" Harry asked as he and Ron walked out of the changing room and into the silent hallway.  Only the students returning from Quidditch practice were allowed out of their houses that late.

Ron grinned easily.  "Simple, really.  Over the last three years, I've been rather…"

"Obsessed?" Harry suggested helpfully.

"Taken with her," Ron corrected, choosing to ignore his friend for the moment, "And because of that, I've made the time to be around her much more than necessary.  She's gotten so used to me consistently being there, that she's taken it for granted that I always will be.  What I am doing is forcing her to realize that my presence is important in her life."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed, "But I thought your plan was about getting her to understand the two of you being together wouldn't hurt me?"  
  


Ron rolled his eyes playfully, "Yes, Harry, the sun rises and sets everyday only because of…"

"That's what you _said_," Harry protested.

"I know, I know.  But as I was re-evaluating the plan some time last week, I figured out that before I could go about convincing her that the logistics of a relationship would work, I had to first convince her that she _wanted_ a relationship."

"And asking her out wouldn't achieve the same results?"

Ron sighed and looked properly exasperated.  "What, just throw that out there without any sort of warning to her first?  'Hey Hermione, have you done the Herbology homework and would you perhaps consider a romantic relationship with me?'  That would get the desired effect…if the effect I desired was causing an aneurysm in her logical brain."

"And by ignoring her you're…giving her warning?" 

"I'm not _ignoring_ her, and this is only the first st…honestly, have you even been paying attention?"

Harry sniggered.  "You sounded exactly like Hermione then."

"Look, if I ask her now, she'll say no because she has become so accustomed to repressing any feelings she has for me.  You see how well she's done with it so far.  I mean, three months with _Justin Finch-Fletchley_?" Ron complained.

"Oh no, not this again," Harry groaned, "I thought you'd gotten over that after they broke up."

"I am over it," Ron argued, "And he seems like a nice sort of bloke.  But really, _three months_?  Was she mad?"

"Please, no more.  Anyway, I've never seemed to have any trouble with straight-forwardly asking girls out."

Ron shot him a sidelong glance and clutched his heart in mock surprise.  "Gryffindor's star Seeker and the bloody _Boy Who Lived_ doesn't have trouble getting a date?  I'm absolutely floored, I assure you.  You do realize the first years have started a We Love Harry Potter fan club, right?" He grinned when his friend's face flushed, then continued, "It's a bit harder for us regular types, I'm afraid."

"Ok, but you can't forget that you're Gryffindor's star Keeper, and…" he looked slightly embarrassed, "The Boy Who Lived's best friend."

Ron nodded in agreement, "And I have successfully asked girls out.  But not Hermione, not the girl I really care about," he paused a moment and gave Harry an appraising look, "Come to think of it, you don't have too much experience in that area either, do you?"

Harry made a sharp, strangled sound as they made their way up to Gryffindor Tower.  

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you?" Ron questioned before glancing up at the Fat Lady who was blocking entrance into their common room, "Brown-speckled newt."

He was taken aback momentarily when he his eyes reached her face.  The look she was giving him was almost…lascivious.  

"What?" He asked defensively.

"Just got back from Quidditch practice, did you?" Was her sly reply as the portrait swung open.

Ron turned toward Harry, who simply shrugged, as confused by the Fat Lady as he was.

They chose not to respond to her, and instead climbed into the common room.  When they walked in, Ron tried to pick up their conversation.

"No idea what I'm talking about, huh?  Maybe I should ask…"

"Ron!"

His eyes darted immediately across the room until they came upon Hermione, her mouth wide open and her cheeks very red.

Again, Ron looked to Harry for a clue as to what was going on, with the same clueless shrug as a result.  

"What?  What's wrong?"

It seemed Ron failed to notice, much to his credit, that his cheeks were flushed charmingly from the exertion of Quidditch practice, his wild red hair was wet and tousled elegantly about his head, and his favorite Chudley Cannons t-shirt clung to his chest in such a way that it perfectly outlined his lean and toned muscles, all of which combined for a rather pleasing picture. 

The females lounging around the common room certainly did not fail to notice this, however.  When the fifth year Chaser, Kylie Grundenberg, emitted something that sounded distinctly like a catcall, Hermione flew across the room until she was standing in front of him.

"Ron!  What are you…you look positively indecent!" She exclaimed.

"I don't know, Herm," Parvati Patil sniggered from a corner of the room, "He looks _more_ than decent from where I'm sitting."

At that, she and Lavender burst into giggles.

Hermione spun around abruptly, "Mind your own business, Parvati."

"Oh, I see.  So Ron's current, delicious state of undress is only your business, then?" Parvati retorted.

Hermione's face turned a funny sort of tomato color when she turned again to focus on Ron, who had his head lowered in order to conceal his amused grin.

"Ron," Hermione said, with a great deal more composure than he probably would have had if the situations were reversed, "What do you think you're doing strolling in here like that?  There are first years present!  You can't just walk around looking…" she gestured abstractly at his body.

Ron raised an eyebrow, "Yes?"

"Looking the way you do…" she hissed lowly, "At least put on your robe, Ron."

There was a bark of laughter from Harry and both Ron and Hermione turned to look at him sharply.

"So sorry," he gasped, "I'll be in my room."

With that, he made his way up the stairs to the boys' dorms.

Ron switched his gaze back to the girl in front of him.

"Hermione, I swear, it was not my intention to scandalize eleven-year-old girls, or whatever you're accusing me of.  I just finished a four hour long Quidditch practice, and didn't feel like putting on my stuffy robe.  That was all.  I'm going up to the dorm now, you won't have to see me again," Ron said calmly, holding Hermione's eyes captive with his own.

He turned and made his way for the stairs, but as he was about to go up, she called to him and walked swiftly to where he was standing at the foot of the stairs.  He cocked his head and eyed her with a curious expression.

Hermione sighed softly and placed her hand on his forearm.  Ron shut his eyes briefly to gain control over his body, as it shocked from the sensation of her hand on his bare skin.  He could recite from memory the very few times when Hermione had touched him anywhere skin to skin, because it happened to infrequently.  They so often wore their insufferable, suffocating robes, which covered everything from wrists to knees.

"Oh, Ron," she whispered finally, looking truly repentant, "I'm sorry I yelled at you.  It was silly of me to think you'd purposely try to do something like that."

He smiled gently down at her, and their gazes once again locked.  _Those eyes.  So beautiful.  _He couldn't stop his hand from reaching up and brushing a stray lock of dark curly hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear.

He let his hand linger on her cheek, and his features softened even further when he felt her body sway almost imperceptibly into his touch.

"Good night, Hermione," he said, before ascending up the stairs.


	3. Part three

Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm meant.  JKR takes better care of them, anyway.  I let them leave their dorms a mess and skip dinner, and gods know that's not good for any imaginary character.

A/N: Sorry this took so long, if there was anyone waiting for it.  Midterms and other school related things kept me from my computer for quite a while.  Hope you enjoy.

This whole part is really kind of filler, setting up what is going to happen later in the story.  Might not be the most interesting, but I lay the groundwork for what is to come.  The beginning is kind of my Ode to Seamus, because I love the character, and because I really had no idea how to get the main plot rolling, so what's a better way to take up space than to throw in amusing tertiary characters?  Exactly.  Ron's fellow Gryffindors are going to play an integral part of the whole 'planning process,' so setting up their level of interest was important anyway.  Another set-up is Hermione's defense of Draco, which we'll see is key point later on.  Hermione is going to be front and center…next part, I believe, so look for that in about a week or so.  

Ron runs evermore into the depths of OOC, and I've even thrown in a gratuitous shirtless moment.  I hope you all appreciate my efforts.  ::grin::  Not like I was interested in that type of thing AT ALL.  Reply with any questions or comments, and I'll try to touch on them in the preface to the next part.

Thanks to everyone who's responded thus far.  You've helped quell my fears of hurting canon.

Distribution: xmsnbufgal@aol.com  Email and ask me first, I'd like to know where my stuff is going.  Thanks.

Part Three: Wherein the plan is more solidly outlined, and the rising action begins.

"Oh Ron, you dashingly handsome Keeper, you," Seamus cried out to the red head in question as he entered the seventh year dorm, his expression the slightest bit dazed.  

Ron raised a wry eyebrow while he watched his friend's antics.

Seamus wasn't nearly done.  He fell backwards onto his bed and gave Ron his best 'come hither' look. 

"Ravish and generally have your way with me!  You can take off those Quidditch pants, but leave the t-shirt.  The Cannons' logo really brings out the orange in your hair."  He threw his body spread eagle on the bed and shut his eyes.  "I'm at your mercy."

By that time, Dean had already almost tossed his long body off his bed and onto the ground with the way he was convulsing with laughter.  Harry's shoulders were shaking uncontrollably, and his arms were wrapped around his stomach.  Even Neville looked properly amused by Seamus' display. 

Ron took it all in stride.  

"Harry's telling stories again, I see.  Honestly, he's worse than Parvati when it comes to spreading gossip," he responded dryly.

"It's not gossip when it's completely true," Harry defended himself, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes briefly.  He turned his attention to his roommates.  "You should have seen the way they were ogling him.  Looked like they wanted to eat him alive, they did.  Bloody priceless.  And Hermione, bless her, was the worst of all.  I thought her mouth was going to start collecting flies, the way it was hanging open for so long."

"So Hermione _is_ interested in Ron?" Seamus queried, as a slow and characteristically devilish smile began to slide over his face, "I knew it!  Didn't I tell you, Dean?  And you had the gall to doubt me.  Me!  Seamus-bloody-Finnigan, Knower of All That Needs Knowing."

Dean easily ignored his best friend and focused on Ron instead, "What happened after Harry came bounding in here, then?  Hermione push you up against a wall and snog you senseless?"

His friends each sniggered when heat spread up Ron's neck to cover his face.  It wasn't embarrassment from Dean's ribbing that caused it, but rather the alarmingly vivid pictures the words instantly conjured to his mind.

"She did nothing of the sort," Ron answered quickly in an attempt to rid his brain of those distracting mental images.

"Ahh, but she did do _something_, didn't she?" Seamus prodded, "I saw that look on your face as you walked in, all moony-eyed and whatnot."

Bloody perceptive git.  "You've gone 'round the bend, Finnigan."

"Oh please.  You don't think I've been subjected to that dreamy expression of yours for the last two years?  'Hermione talked to me 14 times today.'  'Hermione laughed at one of my block-headed jokes today.'  'Hermione existed today.'  You really have been quite effeminate about this whole thing.  What did she do now, Weasley?  She say your name, and the way she rolled the 'r' just set your heart aflutter?"

Ron grinned ruefully.  He couldn't deny his _occasional _lapses into sentimentality when it came to her.  However, the bashful grin slowly became a sly one when his thoughts turned to the common room.

"Her reaction was quite spectacular though, wasn't it?" He questioned, dropping his Quidditch bag on the floor and moving across the room to his bed.

Sitting down on his disheveled comforter, he simultaneously toed off his worn boots, inherited from Charlie and one and a half sizes too big, and peeled his Cannons shirt up over his head.

"Definitely," Harry agreed enthusiastically, chuckling again just thinking about it, "If I hadn't already known the first step of your plan, I would have assumed that was part of it."

Ron looked up from where he was rooting around inside his clothing chest for his pajamas and shook his head.

That bit of information piqued both Seamus and Dean's interests.  Neville had since fallen asleep in his bed, and the other boys could hear his low, rhythmic breathing.

"What's this about a plan?" Dean asked.

"Ron has decided to begin to take matters into his own hands with Hermione," Harry explained, a small smile playing on his lips.

Seamus seemed excessively pleased by this news.  "Excellent!  And what did you have in mind?"  The question was directed at Ron, who pulled his nightshirt over his head.

"Well, for the last week or so, I've been keeping my distance from her in order…"

"To make her realize how much she misses you!" Seamus finished excitedly, "Brilliant, Weasley, you sly beast."

Ron gave him a thoughtful look before replying, "I'd really rather you never called me that again, Seamus, thanks so much.  Anyway, based on current developments, I've decided to head straight into part B."

"Step two," Harry piped up.

"What?"

"The bit for the last week was step one, so this is step two, not part B."

"Does it matter?"

"I'm just saying, you can't possibly expect to create a successful plan when you keep switching about your…"  
  


"Step two, got it," Ron cut Harry off.

"What is step two?" Dean prodded, moving the conversation back to its original topic.

"Right," Ron said, "That's the problem I'm having.  I don't really have anything past step one, save the vague understanding that a step two would be needed at some point."

Seamus groaned aloud and shook his head.  "Am I the only person in this House who has the ability to be sneaky and slightly underhanded?"

When the other boys nodded at him, he reached out for his wand and commanded, "_Accio quill!_"

His favorite blue, goose-feathered quill flew out of his bag and into his waiting hand.  Then, he reached over and nabbed a piece of parchment from his nightstand.  

"We're going to do this right now," he said decisively.

Ron eyed him suspiciously, "Why does it seem like there is a nefarious ulterior motive behind you helping me?"

Seamus had the good sense to look utterly appalled by the accusation.  "I'm in Gryffindor!  How could you suggest such a thing?"

"Yes, you are," Dean agreed, "But we'd all eaten dinner, played a game of Quidditch and taken our O.W.L.s by the time the Sorting Hat finally decided to put you here."

An indifferent wave of his hand showed Seamus' opinion on that subject.

"It probably couldn't choose between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, based on my fearlessness in the face of danger and, on the other hand, my intelligence and unending wit.  A difficult decision even for a charmed, inanimate object, I assure you."

The three other boys looked at each other and responded in unison, "Slytherin."

"Alright," Seamus declared, cutting short what would have inevitably become an incredibly off-topic listing of all his faults, "How about this for a motive besides genuinely being interested in the well-being of two of my good friends?  Perhaps if this little plot works, then for the first time in almost three years I can get, you know, A DECENT NIGHT'S SLEEP!"

"Here, here!" Harry shouted from his bed, and punctuated it with a solemn salute in Seamus' direction.

Ron sighed wearily and ran a hand over his face.  

"Fine.  What've you got?"

"See how much smoother things run when people just defer to me?"

"I don't see anything running at all yet, Finnigan," Ron sneered, before falling back on Seamus' bed.

"Well, first of all, I stand by what I said earlier.  Keeping away from her for a few days?  Very cunning.  I'm impressed."

"Glad for your approval," Ron answered sarcastically while motioning for his Irish friend to continue.

"I have a question now.  What was Hermione's reaction to her brief deprivation from the Weasley charm?" 

Ron shrugged.  "Confusion, nervousness, she sought me out more and seemed loathe to leave when we finally met for whatever reason.  Not an altogether disagreeable situation from my point of view, you understand.  She even walked me all the way to the changing rooms today for Quidditch practice, and was going to walk right in until I pointed out where we were."

Seamus rubbed his hands together eagerly.  "Excellent, and what was to be expected.  I think the best course of action for step two based upon the facts you've just presented us with and the display Hermione made earlier, is to do exactly the opposite of what you've been doing during step one."

                                                                        *

"Morning, Hermione," Ron greeted, sending her a cheeky grin.   

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.  He looked distinctly like Fred and George when they were planning a particularly dastardly scheme.  

"Hello, Ron.  I wasn't expecting you.  You haven't been attending breakfast lately."

He shrugged carelessly.  "Slept late.  Here now though, ready to go?"

His grin became tender, and he ducked his head to keep her from noticing it, when she put her hands on her hips and examined him closely.  From his current vantage point, he saw her raise her hand to touch him, but halfway to his cheek she hesitated.  Clenching her fingers into a fist, she returned it to her side.

"Are you sleeping alright?  You and Harry haven't been sneaking out with the Invisibility Cloak, have you?"

"I'm sleeping fine," he assured her, "Even better than fine, since I've been using those extra hours in the morning to rest instead of going to the Great Hall."

She still looked as if she didn't believe him, but then sighed slightly, obviously deciding to let it go.

"Let's go then, I want to get there before all the apple pasties are taken," she told him.

They were making the trek to the Great Hall talking amicably when, halfway there, Hermione's eyebrows suddenly furrowed.

"Where's Harry?" She asked.

"He said to go on and he'd meet us in a bit," Ron answered, "You just realized he wasn't here?"

Hermione shook her head slowly, feeling rather silly.

"I guess I didn't think about it."

                                                                        *

"I need help," Ron declared later on that day in their common room.

Hermione looked up from her Defense Against the Dark Arts book.

"It's good you've finally realized that."  
  


"Hey.  And that's not what I meant.  I need help with my Potions essay."

That really confused her.  "The Potions essay?  But that's not due for another two and a half weeks."

Ron nodded in agreement.  "Yes, I wanted to get a head start on it."

"No, you didn't."

She put her book on the end table beside her, crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him with weary distrust.  He was standing in front of her, his hands stuck in his pockets, his head slightly bowed and his eyes wide and innocent.  She didn't believe him for a second.

"Excuse me?" He blurted, sounding surprised.

"You have never, ever, in all your years at Hogwarts wrote an essay anytime earlier than the day before it was due.  Especially not a Potions essay, for Merlin's sake.  What are you playing at?" 

"You don't think it's possible I could just be genuinely interested in getting a good grade on this, one of my last essays _ever_ for Potions?"

"No."

"Perhaps you're rubbing off on me?" 

She shook her head sharply.  "It's impossible to believe that after six years, my rubbing on you has had any affect."

Her face reddened the moment the words came out of her mouth.  He looked up quickly, eyebrows rising and lips quirking.

Hermione threw her hands up in a flustered manner.  "You know what I mean."

"I know, and you're right.  The truth is, I wanted to spend some time with you," he admitted, looking completely unabashed.

She was pleased, but not at all convinced by his argument.

"You see me every day, Ron," she pointed out, but the uncrossing of her arms showed her resolve weakening.

"But never alone.  We're always with Harry or Ginny or someone.  I never get time with you anymore."

"And you decided to lure me with homework?" She asked.

"Don't make it sound so dirty, Hermione," Ron argued, "I thought the prospect of saving me from academic misery would be the only thing that could tear you away from your book, that's all.  Let's go to the library."

"You promise you aren't planning some wicked scheme?"

Ron graced her with one of his deep, genuine grins.  "I can't promise you that, but I can say honestly that the reason I am asking for your help is to be with you.  It feels like we haven't seen each other in ages."

"I've noticed," Hermione acknowledged quietly.  

"Well then?  Will you come?  You might even teach me something." 

Her attempts to seem conflicted were utterly transparent to him, and he knew he had her.  Reaching out, he took hold of both her hands and hauled her off the chair she had been sitting on.  In doing so, though, he pulled fractionally too hard, and she landed gently against his chest.

He held her there a moment longer than was necessary, her head on his shoulder, their bodies flush against each other and their hands still linked at their sides.

Ron closed his eyes for a brief moment and enjoyed the contact before gently righting her.  Her eyes were a glazed chocolate brown and there was a sweet heat to her cheeks.

"Sorry about that," he said, looking for all the world decidedly unapologetic, "I guess I underestimated my own strength."

"It's alright," she accepted swiftly, "Let's just get going then."

Ron refrained from chuckling when she tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ears, an obvious effort to regain her composure.

"Good idea."  

He motioned for her to go through the portrait first, and followed her out.

"What time do you have Quidditch practice today?" Hermione asked when they were walking together through the hallways.  

"Seven," Ron responded, "So we have a few hours yet.  Did you see Malfoy today at lunch come prancing in with Parkinson all over him?  Made me sick, that disgusting display.  Stupid git."

Hermione sniggered into her hand and nodded.  "I saw it, I think the entire Great Hall was witness to Parkinson hanging all over him.  Even Malfoy looked disturbed."

Ron turned to her in surprise.  "Sticking up for the Great Prat now, are you?"

"Of course not," she said, "But since we've been forced to work together as Head Boy and Girl, we've come to something of an understanding.  He doesn't purposely annoy me, and I don't hit him.  Rather simple, really."

"I don't think I like you having any more contact with that bloody git than you absolutely need to."

Hermione snorted, "Don't worry about that.  Our ceasefire lasts until stop working, then it's back to business as usual."

Their conversation was ended abruptly with the appearance of Brenda Bitzwagner, a sixth year Ravenclaw Ron had been chatting a lot with in recent weeks.

"Ron, hello," she greeted, and offered Hermione a pleasant smile.

"Brenda, nice to see you," Ron said honestly.  She was a very agreeable sort of girl, funny and quite smart, with the sleekest black hair he'd ever seen.

"You too," her grinned widened, "I'm glad I ran into you, actually.  I was wondering if you wouldn't mind helping me.  We have a match against Hufflepuff coming up, and I can't seem to figure out that double-eight move you do to block Frenkelwerst's shots."

Bitzwagner was the Ravenclaw House Keeper, and a bloody good one, at that.  Ron highly doubted she had any trouble whatsoever with that relatively simple maneuver.  

"Normally I would, but Hermione and I are headed to the library to do some studying.  Sorry."

Bitzwagner looked almost as surprised as Hermione at his declining the invitation.  Both women knew there was little Ron liked to do more than go over Quidditch technique.

"Oh, ok.  Some other time then," she said hastily, offering another quick smile and departing. 

As she was leaving, Ron continued the walk toward the library.

"What were we talking about?" He questioned, "Oh right, Malfoy…"

His words died when he saw Hermione's confused expression.  "What?"

"You do realize that Bitzwagner wasn't asking you to help her out of a desire to learn some little Quidditch move, right?"

He shot her an amused grin.  "Thank you, Hermione."

She looked annoyed at his sarcasm.  "Haven't you been interested in her for weeks now?  That was the perfect opportunity."

He shrugged.  "Perhaps, but I'd already made plans with you."

"Oh really, Ron, it's just a little studying, we could do it any time.  What's working on Potions compared to playing Quidditch?"

"That wasn't the choice I had," he answered simply.

"And what was it?"  Her voice challenged him to come up with a suitable retort.  He was happy to oblige.

"The choice was between you and someone else, and so really there was no contest.  You should know that."


	4. Part four

Disclaimer: Not mine by a long shot.  They belong to people smarter, richer and far more talented than me.

A/N: Sorry, sorry.  It took a while, I know.  I didn't mean it!  To make up for it though, I think this is the longest chapter yet.  It's mostly Hermione's point of view, so Ron will seem even MORE OOC, since we are unable to hear his thoughts on the events taking place.  We will soon enough though, I promise.  As always, review if you get a chance.

Dedications: To Mare who reads this even though she claims she can only see Ron as an asexual being, and Susie and her cat.  They probably won't read this here, but I'll leave it in nonetheless.  Also, to everyone that cared enough to email me personally and demand I get my ass in gear.  It was much appreciated, and helped me move it along.

Part Four: Wherein the second protagonist finally gets to speak

"The choice was between you and someone else, and so really there was no contest. You should know that."

Hermione took an almost imperceptible step backward.  Her mind scrambled to try and comprehend what Ron had said to her.

It couldn't possibly mean what I think it means. Of course not, that's silly.  He's talking about friendship.  I would rather have his or Harry's company over anyone else's, so why should it be any different for him?

She made a valiant effort to keep her emotions from running freely over her features.  

He picked me over Bitzwagner.  He could have gotten a date to Hogsmeade this weekend with her, or at the very least a good snog, but he chose me.  He chose me.

Hermione felt light headed and almost euphoric at the idea that, friend of not, she had been his _first choice_.  She faked a cough into her hand to buy her some time as she tried to think up a response.  She didn't want Ron to realize the gross over-analysis she was giving his probably innocuous statement.  She almost groaned aloud when she saw that he was giving her the look she had seen on him many times over the past two years, but never quite become accustomed to.  The knowing, confident half-grin that made Hermione believe Ron knew every single thing that ran through her head.  

Not a comforting idea when she was having decidedly unfriendly thoughts.  Ron's eyebrow would rise, his lips would quirk upward just so and his eyes would get an amused glint to them.  It was no help to Hermione's composure when that particular expression also made him look devilishly handsome.  It simply doubled its potency, and somehow it seemed as if Ron realized that too.

Hermione knew every one of Ron's facial expressions, had subconsciously categorized them in her head.  She could tell by simply a look when he was upset, ecstatic or seething with anger.  She thought it was probably very maternal of her to worry so much about his wellbeing, but she couldn't help herself.

And of course she was a mother hen.  Someone had to worry about those two blundering fools she called best friends.  Otherwise, they'd never even bother to get their homework done, they'd miss lunch and dinner in the name of finishing a game of wizard's chess and Godric only knows how many times they would have run themselves blindly into mortal peril without her painstakingly researching the situation for them beforehand.

It was a nice dynamic they had.  Hermione was the rationality of the group, the one to stop and really consider all options and make calm, level headed decisions.  Ron was the heart of the group.  His emotions controlled him, and he was always, always the first person to come to a friend's defense.  He tended not to think about the consequences of his actions in the heat of the moment, like when he tried to curse Malfoy with a broken wand because he had called Hermione a Mudblood.  Harry was the conscience.  He had not been brought up in a healthy, loving family like Hermione and Ron, and because of that he tended to empathize with people more.  He was acutely aware of everyone's feelings and, Hermione thought with fondness, that was what made him such a wonderful hero.  

Harry.  Her thoughts always strayed to him.  For the past six years she and Ron had been the only stability in his life.  With constant threats against his life during the school year and going home in the summer to those…those…cretins he called family, he had no one to count on, nothing to depend upon except Ron and Hermione's unwavering loyalty and friendship.  She had stood stalwart and steadfastly by him, wand blazing, since she was eleven, and she promised herself that no matter what happened between the three of them, Hermione would never knowingly make Harry's life any harder than it already had been.

It wasn't pity that spurned her actions, but a loyalty and love for her friend so fierce it would stun the truest Hufflepuff.  

Oh, but Ron.  Ron Weasley with his easy smile and his sharp eyes and his lean, wiry body.  He made Hermione feel…passionate.  Whether it was by working her into a frenzied anger unmatched by anyone, or by causing delicious shivers to trail tantalizingly up and down her spine.  The devious redheaded boy in front of her was the only hindrance in her epic mission to Keep Harry Happy.  He made her want to say 'sod it,' grab him and snog him senseless, consequences be damned.  

If she did that, the delicate relationships the three of them shared would be thrown completely off balance, and Harry would feel as if he had been relegated to fifth wheel in the face of a romantic entanglement between she and Ron.  It simply couldn't happen, she wouldn't let teenage hormones, fickle as they were, ruin the peace they had worked so hard to create.  

In her head, however, Hermione realized all her worries were absolutely pointless.  In order for her to even have to contemplate the massive ramifications of she and Ron's relationship, Ron would actually have to have an interest in Hermione _that way_.  And the prospect of the charming star Quidditch player liking Hermione as more than simply a best friend and confidant was…

"Ridiculous."

"What?"  

She started when she realized she had voiced that final word out loud.  

"Uh…it's ridiculous that you would come study with me instead of playing Quidditch on a day like this."  Hermione was nothing if not quick on her feet.

Ron just gave her a cheeky grin and slung a playful arm around her shoulders.  

"I think you severely underestimate your animal magnetism, 'Mione," he responded.

Hermione rolled her eyes and snorted in an irritation that was negated by her body unconsciously snuggling further into his embrace.

                                                                      *            

Two days later, Hermione stepped out of her Arithmancy class, idly fiddling with her bag.  When she looked up and saw Ron leaning against the wall, hands casually tucked in his pockets, feet crossed at the ankles, she inwardly berated herself for the absurdly wide grin that overtook her features.   

She did her best to tone her smile down from Giddy to Supremely Pleased.

"Ron, hello.  What are you doing here?"

He pushed off the wall and stepped closer to her.  She took a moment to marvel at the complete confidence with which he moved.  He was no longer the gawky and clumsy boy she knew, uncomfortable with his overly long limbs and lanky frame.  

"I was waiting for you."

"Oh."

She had known that was the reason for his appearance, and yet hearing him say it still made her heart pound thunderously in her chest.  The Giddy smile came back and was now bordering on Euphoric, a feeling utterly inappropriate for such a small gesture, but it seemed Hermione had lost control over the muscles in her mouth.  She couldn't be blamed for anything they did when they clearly weren't obeying her explicit instructions.

"Care to go for a walk with me?"

She thought a moment.  Because of scheduling difficulties, Arithmancy was after dinner, so it was nearly seven and she'd barely even started all her other homework.  Plus, Professor Vector had assigned the class a particularly tricky set of problems she was eager to dive into.

"I don't know, I have some Arithmancy homework…" she explained hesitantly.

Was it her imagination, or was Ron's smile almost…fond…when she said that?

"If you come with me now, I promise I'll let you explain the problems to me in all their excruciating detail," he promised

Hermione perked up instantly.  "Really?  You'll really listen and not complain?"  She was positively beaming like an idiot.

And now she was certain the look he was giving her was one of fondness.  It was then that Hermione realized she had been spending an inordinate amount of time looking at Ron's mouth throughout their conversation.  She averted her eyes.

_Why would he sit through a lecture on Arithmancy,_ she thought suddenly, logically.  _He once threatened to throw himself off Gryffindor Tower if I didn't stop talking about the Geometrius charm and its presence in modern day Muggle architecture._

She gave a mental shrug.  If Ron was suddenly interested in anything besides Quidditch and chess, she wouldn't be the one to deter him from it.  Anyway, he probably had to discuss something with her, and that was why he was so hell bent on that walk.

                                                                        *

He didn't.

Fifteen minutes of walking silently, but not unpleasantly, side by side across the grounds, Hermione's curiosity got the better of her.

"Ron?"

"Yes?"

"Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?" She asked.

He gave a slow shake of his head that made his hair shimmer like burnished copper as it was reflected off the ebbing rays of the sunset above them.  Hermione thought it was rather too fetching a look for someone she was desperately trying not think of as handsome.  

Shoving that thought into the back of her mind, she focused on the matter at hand.

"Why did you insist we come out here then?"

"It's beautiful," he said by way of answering, waving a hand vaguely in the direction of the sky where dark blues, vivid reds and royal purples were blending and weaving together just above the horizon.  They could make out the Ravenclaw Quidditch team flying around on the pitch, tossing the Quaffle companionably to one another, seeming to zig and zag in and out of the patchwork of colors.

After a moment, Ron continued.  "I always thought this was the most perfect time of day.  The sky is like poetry."

Hermione eyed him curiously at that uncharacteristic turn of phrase.  Then he shook his shaggy haired head to pull himself out of whatever thoughts were going through his head and smiled down on her ruefully.

"Anyway, it's beautiful, and I wanted to see what it would be like to witness it with you."

Happiness she couldn't contain swelled uncontrollably in her chest.  "And…?"

She held her breath.

Ron touched her shoulder lightly.  "It's even better."

Her traitorous mouth stretched easily into Giddy.

                                                                        *

He was always outside of her Advanced Muggle Studies class so they could walk to the Great Hall for lunch.  He was had been there every day for the last week and a half, and he wasn't there today.  

Hermione looked anxiously around the hallway for the telltale shock of red hair, but saw nothing.  Just as she was about to give up and head there by herself, his familiar voice shouted for her.

She twisted around so fast she almost got caught up in her robes.

"Ron!  I'm so glad to see you, I thought you weren't coming."

Hermione wanted to bite her tongue off.  

Apparently her loss of control had moved passed her lips and had now encompassed her entire mouth.  Was it possible someone was spiking her pumpkin juice?  It was ludicrous the things her mouth wanted to do around him.

However, if Ron had noticed she was overly eager to be with him, he didn't show it.  Instead, he looked genuinely apologetic, and had a smudge of dirt on his cheek.

"I know, I'm sorry.  I had a mild problem with my Somber Weed, it didn't take to me."

Her eyes widened slightly.  Somber Weed was known to be pretty dangerous if it was in a foul mood.  "Well, are you all right?"

"Oh yeah, don't worry.  Neville was there to calm it down."

It occurred to her that getting from the greenhouses all the way to the Muggle Studies classroom, which was nearly in the Gryffindor Tower, was a rather long trek for him.  It was a wonder he had been able to get there before she was let out every day before then.

A bit odd, that.  Why doesn't he just meet me in the Great Hall?  It would be easier for him.

Not that she planned on mentioning that, of course.

"You have some dirt…" she told Ron, stepping until there bodies touched, going on her tiptoes and rubbing her thumb against his cheekbone.

When her eyes happened to lock onto his, she noticed he was looking at her in a way she'd never seen before, but that still made her breath catch in her throat.  The only thing she could think was, _I've never seen eyes so blue.  _They were darkened with an emotion she didn't have a place for yet in her category of Ron's expressions.

Stepping back hastily, she looked down at the ground feeling her cheeks go scarlet.  

"I'm sorry, I must remind you of your mother."

Ron's vaguely repulsed look made her lips turn up in a confused half smile.  

"No, Hermione, I can honestly say that at this moment, my mother is one of the last people you remind me of.  And also one of the last people I want to think about."

The intense gleam in his eyes hadn't left, and with an inner mantra of _HarryHarryHarry_, she moved around him and began to make her way down the hall.  

"Let's get going then and meet Harry," she called over her shoulder, wincing at how weak her voice sounded, "I'm hungry."

                                                                        *

It was almost a week later when he sat across from her in the common room and asked about _Hogwarts: A History _that her inquisitive mind outweighed the butterflies in her stomach whenever he was near her, and she had to know what was going on.

"Have you gone mad?"

Ron seemed mildly surprised by the question.

"Excuse me?"

"Seriously Ron, have you?  For the past two weeks, all you seem to worry about it homework and studying.  You're rushing from Herbology to meet me, and taking me for walks, and sitting next to me instead of Harry and saying the sky is like poetry, whatever _that_ was.  Now a sudden interest in _Hogwarts: A History_?  I don't understand what's wrong with you.  If you don't explain it to me right this second, Ron Weasley, I swear I'm going to cry Polyjuice Potion to anyone who will listen!"

Throughout her rant, Ron had been watching her, head tilted, with an amused smirk playing on his lips.

"It's simple really," he answered after she stopped, "I'm trying to seduce you."

Hermione gasped loudly and the book in her hands fell onto the carpet with a quiet thump.

"Are you sure you're well, Ron?"  It was asked almost desperately.

"Oh yes, I'm doing fine, honestly.  And you?"

"I'm…good, but you're obviously not.  You need to see Madam Pomfrey immediately," she responded faintly.

Ron moved to go around the table separating them, and Hermione jumped up so quickly she knocked over the remaining three books that were stacked on the table.

"I have to…Harry!" She exclaimed.

"You have to hairy?" Ron asked, being, in Hermione's opinion, deliberately obtuse.

"I have to speak with him, I mean.  If you'll excuse me."

Without picking up her bag, books or quill, she took off for the stairs leading directly to the girls' dorms.

                                                                        *

Ron watched her race upstairs until he heard the door slam shut.  He lowered his eyes and found himself looking straight at an overeager, sandy haired, Irish face.

"Brilliant!  Did you see the way she pelted out of here?"

"That I did.  It seems we've moved into step three."

                                                                        *

_Seduce me?  Seduce me?  He has gone absolutely stark raving mad?!_

Still, Hermione had to admit, if he wanted to win her affections, he was certainly going about it the right way.  She hadn't even been able to completely forget about him while doing her homework, and that was saying something.  Of course the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck, the way he smiled so easily when he was with her, and the way she knew he'd stand in front of _Avada Kedavra _for her in a heartbeat didn't hurt either.

What Hermione couldn't get over was the way he came out and said it.  He had looked her straight in the eye and was disconcertingly calm.  He hadn't been kidding, and Hermione knew Ron would never play a joke on her, not about something like that.  He had been serious.

She became lightheaded with giddiness.  Ron might actually…fancy her?  Was it even possible?  She sat down heavily on her bed.  But how could she have missed that?  

And Harry.  Oh, Harry.  Hermione let herself fall so her back and head hit the mattress and her feet stayed planted on the ground.  Suddenly her hypothetical worries were becoming very real indeed.  She couldn't do this to Harry, she couldn't.

Steeling herself, she pushed off the bed and walked out of her room.  She moved hesitantly down the stairs and found Ron standing where she had left him, in front of the table surrounded by her books.

"Ron, can I speak to you for a moment, please?"

"Of course," he agreed easily.  

He walked forward, took hold of her elbow and steered her out the portrait hole.  "To have some privacy," he explained quietly.

When they were out there, Hermione took three deep breaths and began to speak.  

"I'm sure you know what I want to talk to you about.  Ron, I need to know…what did you mean a few minutes ago when you said…you said…well you know what you said?"

A small shrug.  "I'm seducing you, Hermione.  I've fancied you forever, and I thought it would be a good time to let you know."

Hermione took a step backward in a desperate attempt not to throw her arms around his neck and show him she returned his feelings tenfold.  Her heart was hammering against her rib cage, seeming to try and escape its place in her chest.  She knew that the smile on her face was one step beyond Euphoric, whatever that could be.  

She had to stop, she had to take control of the situation.  _Harryharryharry_

Another deep breath and Hermione won the battle with her rogue mouth, and the grin on her face dimmed considerably down to Unending Adoration.  She took heart in that small victory.  The thought of what she was about to do wiped the smile off her face completely.

"Ron, Ron, listen.  I'm…flattered," the biggest understatement in her entire life, "And you know that I love you as a friend.  But I don't think of you that way, Ron, I'm so sorry."

I will not cry until I get back into my dorm.  I will NOT.  I am doing the right thing.  Harryharryharry.

Slowly, Hermione looked at Ron's face, which she had been steadfastly avoiding for the while she spoke.  She prepared herself to deal with anger or sadness or resignation etched across Ron's face.  What she absolutely hadn't been expecting was Ron's blinding grin shining down on her.  She did say she wasn't interested in him, right?

"Ron?  Did you hear me?"

He nodded confidently.

"Then…"

"I don't suppose if I told you Harry doesn't mind the idea of us dating that you would just trust me?"

Hermione's eyes widened and she reeled backwards.  _How did he…how…exactly what I was thinking.  How…?_

"It's so much more difficult than you're making it out to be, Ron," she answered when she could find her voice again.

"Yeah, that's what I thought.  Well then, I'm just going to have to continue with my plan."

"I don't understand.  What plan?" 

A large hand was waved to indicate the world in general.  "All this.  I'll make it as enjoyable for you as possible, of course."

"You heard me tell you that I'm not interested in you?  That a relationship between us wasn't possible?" Hermione clarified once again.

"I did hear, actually, and you already asked me that."

"Then what are you on about?" She demanded.  Hermione was hit with the infantile urge to stomp her foot, place her hands on her hips and demand he explain himself.

"Here's the thing, 'Mione.  I don't believe what you're saying.  Not one word of it," Ron admitted.

She gasped and stared at him indignantly.  _How…how dare he insinuate…oh who am I kidding?_

Ron went on seemingly undeterred by the way Hermione's mouth kept opening and closing quite unattractively.  "I'm not being conceited, after all, I'm crazy about you.  Ask anyone, Seamus, Dean, Harry…"

"HARRY!  You dragged him into this?"  She allowed anger to overtake her senses in an effort to rid her mind of everything else.  

Ron's eyes widened and he floundered a moment.  "Ok, ok, I see that I probably shouldn't have mentioned that…"

"Oh, oh _Ron_, why did you do that?  Him of all people?"

"He's my _best friend_, Hermione, who else was I supposed to talk to about girls, Ginny?  Or you?  See how well that's worked out so far, huh?  Maybe I'll just owl Percy and ask him about it.  When he gets a free moment to unsuction his face from Oliver's, I'm sure he'll give me some much-needed advice.  Or wait, I know, I'll ask the twins so they can ridicule and taunt me from now until the end of my existence…"

Hermione cut off his diatribe with a rising of her hand; she had already lost track of how many brothers he had gone through.  

"Yes, I understand what you're saying, but we have to look out for Harry, Ron, after all he's been through…"

Ron's features took on the slightly manic look they tended to get when he was becoming immensely frustrated. 

"HE'S NOT MADE OF GLASS HERMIONE!  And he's not 18 months old anymore, he can take care of himself!"

"You refuse to think clearly because of your…feelings."  She still found it hard to believe.

"Oh yes, and you're the voice of bloody sanity, are you?  Your plan to habitually deny yourself happiness is sure to please him.  He'll be thrilled to know his best friends are miserable because of him."

"I am not denying myself anything, because I don't want anything from you.  I. Am. Not interested!"  Gods, that was getting harder and harder to push out of her mouth.

"Not interested, she says!"  Ron fisted his hands in his hair in irritation, "Argh!  How do you always do this to me?"

"I DON'T KNOW!"  Hermione screamed, then shook her head, the tension in her shoulders dissipating.  "Look at us.  It has to be something, hasn't it?  We've been best friends for seven years, you'd think that we could have a civilized conversation that doesn't revolve around saving the world.  And you really want to date me?"

"At least we wouldn't be bored."

"Ron, please…"

"No, Hermione, please.  You need, no, you deserve…" he stopped talking a moment and collected his thoughts.  Finally, he said, "I won't give up.  I'm as stubborn as anything.  I know you, I know you almost as well as you know yourself.  You want this, 'Mione, I know you do."

He walked forward to lightly grasp her forearms, and Hermione closed her eyes in an attempt to block out his proximity.

"Stop worrying about everyone else, 'Mione.  Think about yourself, just this once."

Slowly, she opened her eyes and saw Ron stooped down so he could look directly into her face.  He seemed so sincere, and his eyes were like melting cobalt.  

Hermione struggled out of his grasp quickly--he didn't try to stop her-- shouted 'Juniper Turnips' at the Fat Lady and rushed into the common room and as far away from Ron Weasley as she could get.


End file.
